


Lessons from Angels

by QuantumAlice



Category: Dominion (TV)
Genre: Alex is obessed with Michael mega bathroom, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fights, Gen, Genderswap, Malex, Naked Female Clothed Male, Slow Burn, Some Humor, Takes place in season 1, Training
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-05 14:21:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5378381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuantumAlice/pseuds/QuantumAlice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If only she could find a way to use that outrageously ginormous tub of his. Her life would be complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. PART I

**Author's Note:**

> First off let me just say that I effing LOVE this series!!! Also this is an AU version of Dominion where not only is Alex Lannon is a female... but she's black. Okay? I blame Nichole Beharie from Sleepy Hollow... she's my muse and so damn cute! While we're at it I must confess I have some MAJOR Malex feels... like MAJOR, MAJOR Malex feels.
> 
> Last but not least, this is unbeta'd... I'm sorry if there are mistakes or if its a bit choppy. I tried to fix what I could, I just really needed to get this out of my head.

With a heavy sigh and an even heavier heart, Alex Lannon exited Michael’s amazing spa sauna shower. Absently, she reached in the general direction of her towel, wrapping it around her body snugly. Despite mourning the loss of such a luxurious experience, Alex was rather grateful that the archangel even let her use his private bath. It was also one of the few reasons she was glad for the markings on her body. Because of them this was the third time in the last two weeks she gained permission to use it and it was making the soldier a bit spoiled. Now, if only she could find a way to use that outrageously ginormous tub of his. Her life would be complete.

Alex softly padded her way to the lavish sink vanity, where she wiped the condensation off the mirror with a hand towel. (Even though she was clean, Alex loathed to smudge something so pretty with her fingerprints.) As she spread the cheap, barely minty flavored, standard issued toothpaste over her equally cheap standard issued toothbrush, something in the mirror reflection caught the soldier's eye. Among the steam, stood a figure in the back of the room, that was not there before. And since Michael had not yet returned to his nest, it couldn’t be him. Her mind raced frantically, silently cursing the fact that she stupidly left her gun in Michael’s bedroom. A rookie mistake to make, however luckily for her, Alex did have her Empyrean Steel pocket knife. Careful to keep her movements as natural as possible, Alex eased her way over to the neatly folded pile of clothes sitting on the toilet seat. She made a show of muttering and cursing about her missing hair brush, all the while discreetly palming the small yet deadly weapon.

As she straightens back up, Alex strikes. She chucks both her hair brush and shampoo bottle at the intruder. Noting the rough grunt of surprise from the figure, Alex yells, rushes headlong into a tackle. But it’s like slamming into a brick wall. Somehow, there’s enough force to pitch the intruder back. However, he makes sure to take her with him. They fall _hard_ onto the black marble floor. The wind nearly knocked from her lungs. They roll several times. Each wrestling for control of the Empyrean knife. To gain the upper hand, the soldier simultaneously knees her attacker in the groin and headbutts him. An action which will definitely leave a new set of bruises. More to add to her already extensive collection… no thanks to Michael. Somewhere in the middle of their scuffle Alex’s towel is lost, but modesty is the furthest thing from her mind. The attacker makes a grab for Alex, but her brown skin is slick from the steam and her sweat; he can’t get a good grip. The knife is flung from their hands and clatters across the bathroom floor. Both scramble over in its direction.

Alex is the first to reach it. With one fluid move she plunges the Empyrean blade deep into the shoulder of her attacker. The man gives a startled cry and stumbles back. Without missing a beat Alex heaves a heavy metal wastebasket and brings it crashing down on the man’s head. Her attacker crumbles to the floor, not moving. The soldier darts from the bathroom back into the archangels bedroom, all the while silently thanking Michael for his ridiculously opulent décor. She lunges for her gun. Flicks the safety off of her Beretta M9 and aims it at the bathroom door.

The muscles in her frame are taunt, her arms steady. Her senses kicked into overdrive as she watches for any sign of life from the bathroom. A cool wind from Michael’s open window trickles over her exposed body. Causing her flesh to pebble and get goosebumps.

“Come out with your hands up!” Alex orders authoritatively, nothing in her tone betraying the nervousness she feels. When nothing comes from the other room, Alex carefully eases back towards the door.

“I said come out with your hands up!”the soldier demands. She cocks her head to the side, listening, intensely for something… _anything_ coming out the bathroom. But there is only silence and Alex doesn’t like it.

“This is your final warning! You have until the count of five! Come out with your hands up or I _will_ shoot you! _One!_ ”

“Two!”

Silence. Alex bites the inside of her cheek until she can taste blood.

“Three!”

Still nothing.

“Four!”

Blood rushes violently in her ears. Even the breath she takes seems loud to her.

“Five!”

She fires.

There is a flash of black and Alex’s shot goes wide. Another flash and she is knocked to the ground. However, she quickly recovers and fires. The shot misses. Before she can get another one off, the flash of black slams into her again. The force of the blow throws her body one way, the gun another. She is effectively pinned to the cool, slick marble walls by the immovable force at her back. Letting out a cry of frustration, Alex tries to free herself but she can’t. She tries to speak, but a painful hold on her neck stops her.

“I’m impressed Alex… you actually used your head this time.” Her eyes widen in shock and disbelief. Alex knew that voice. She begins to struggle in earnest. Even so, the body pressed painfully against hers fails to budge even an inch. “The distraction was a nice touch; you didn’t once let on that you saw me. Also, you used the environment to your advantage; smart. However, you left your primary weapon open for me to take and it took you three minutes to notice something wasn’t right. I’ll give you an A minus since you did manage to injure me.”

As soon as the pressure eased off of Alex, she makes her move. Using the momentum as she shoves off from the wall. Alex delivers a swift right hook. The blow was unexpected, connecting hard enough to cause the familiar figure to step back in surprise.

Alex whirled around angrily, dark eyes blazing, chest heaving. “The _fuck_ Michael! _What_ _the fuck!”_ The archangel straightens to his full height, probably to intimidate her, but more likely out of habit. The angel moved a step closer to Alex, however, he stops dead at the cold warning in her glare.

“It was necessary!” The Archangel insists with a stubborn tilt of his chin. She ached to give the winged bastard another punch to the face, but she didn’t think her hand could survive another blow. Alex begins to pace, back and forth and back and forth trying to keep the rage at bay. She can feel those sky blue eyes of Michael watching her, but she refuses to look at him.

“Necessary? How? You’re giving me a fucking _test_! _In your gahdamn bathroom!_ Are you serious right now!?” She spins around on her heels to face the angel. “Michael this is _your_ eyrie who the hell would---“

The archangel was in Alex’s face quicker than she could blink. His grip was tight, almost bruisingly so on her bare shoulders. His eyes were hard, cold even. Yet, as they stared into Alex’s she could have sworn she saw something else just below their blue depths. It was what? Desperation?

“Gabriel, any of his puppets, a higher angel who hasn’t sided with us or even my sister!” Spat out Michael acidly. Alex brows furrowed, she was getting the strangest feeling she’d missed something. But before she could ask, Michael abruptly lets her go and starts to pace himself.

“Uriel… she came right up here and almost attacked Becca. She claimed she was only going to _scare_ her, but I know my sister. She’s nothing if not cunning, plus she knows about _you._ So until I can secure her loyalty to our side, my sister is just as dangerous as Gabriel.”

Alex opens her mouth, then closes it. She stares at the archangel noting the slight signs of stress on his comely face. She wants to stay angry at him, knows that she probably should and yet… Alex can’t. Just like that the soldier finds herself feeling completely drained. She sighs tiredly, running a hand through her hair. Glancing down at her feet a sudden realization hits her.

She’s still fucking naked.

“Well… shit!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I have a weird fascination with the idea of Michael's bathroom... I don't know why but I do. I imagine that it would look like one of those really highend almost spa type resort ones. Seeing as Michael likes his bedroom all fancy, I figured the same would go for his bathroom too.


	2. PART II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _In the war of emotions, anger triumphs over embarrassment. Which was good, anger was something she could use. Anger made her feel less exposed, less vulnerable._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe... so I guess this is no longer a one-shot huh? eziliveve this is for you! ^_~
> 
> ps: still unbeta'd

The Archangel, who clearly heard her muttered curse, turns back to Alex as she awkwardly tries to hide her lady bits. Stoic, sky blue eyes passively roam over the soldier’s frame from head to toe. She sees a faint glimmer of amusement flicker in their depths. It replaces the weariness that seems to be a constant with Michael, whether he admits to it or not.

The sight of it was almost a relief, until, that is, the Archangel opened his damned mouth.

“You have nothing I haven’t seen _countless_ times before. No need to shield yourself.” He imparts in a haughty manner that only _he_ could achieve.

_That._

_Smug._

_Winged BASTARD!_

She feels her face flame, it spreads from her cheeks to her neck and then to the rest of her body until Alex is sure she’s practically glowing. Anger and embarrassment battle within her. She glares at Michael, fists clenched wishing to God she had the strength to deck the Archangel again. How dare he stand there, lording over her with his complacent attitude.

In the war of emotions, anger triumphs over embarrassment. Which was good, anger was something she could use. Anger made her feel less exposed, less vulnerable. Alex raised her chin, straighten her shoulders and steps forward. Michael observes her, head cocked to the side, eyebrow arched in that insufferable manner of his. She stops, just a few inches shy of his personal space. And while she’s pretty sure her neck will have a crick in it tomorrow, _(damn Michael for being so tall…)_ the soldier in her refuses to break eye contact.

          “Well… if that’s the case… ” Alex begins causally as she brings her arms forth towards the Archangel. A gesture that would seem like, to an outside party, that Alex was offering Michael an embrace.

         “Perhaps then, you better get your fill of these markings while you still can. Who knows when you’ll see them again.” She smiles a sweet, but subtly sardonic smile. Although his “angel bitch face” is on, she knows her words touched something in him. For the Archangel’s posture goes rigid, as if his spine was replaced with a steel rod.

His gaze began to drift along the contours of her skin. However, Michael catches himself and his eyes snap to hers. He tucks his hands behind his back, but not before Alex saw the twitch which betrays him.

          “I assure you… there is no need.” Michael asserts with an air of finality that dares the soldier to question otherwise. With a careless shrug of her shoulders and throaty chuckle, Alex looks away. When their eyes meet again, there is an energy between angel and human that is almost tangible.

          “Well, I better get dressed. Excuse me.” Alex pushed past him, strutting with all the confidence she could muster. Across the bathroom, sat her clothes, still folded neatly on the toilet seat.

There’s no warning. She doesn’t even make it halfway.

One moment Alex was walking, the next she’s crushed against the solid wall that is Michael. Alex instinctively struggles, but he has her arms pinned to her sides. She tries to cry out, but a hand clamps over her mouth. Her protests effectively muffled. Every exposed part of her can feel the strain of his muscles through the textured, but slightly rough material of his clothes. Something unseen has made the Archangel go tense.

          _“Shut up!”_ hissed Michael. His voice low, almost a whisper. Alex can feel the ghost of his lips brush the shell of her ear. As Michael adjusts his shoulders, from her peripheral she can barely make out the aphotic tips of his wings as they unfurl.

          “What do you want?” Michael demands in a glacial, austere tone. And his question, Alex realizes was not directed at her…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *runs away from the cliffhanger* Yes... Alex is still naked...


	3. PART III {fin}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Alex had had plans for that bathtub… wonderfully exquisite grand plans. However, she could take one for the team, even if a tiny part of her dies a little inside._

The atmosphere is thick and heavy with silence. Both Archangel and soldier, listen as the newcomer hesitantly comes a bit closer to the bathroom entrance. Michael’s hold on her tightens, just barely, but enough to betray the agitation Alex senses from him.

“That’s far enough.” Michael snaps coldly to the unseen person, “What is it you want?” She can hear someone shift, and then cough nervously.

“Ah… _ahem_ Excuse me Archangel… Sir. I don’t mean to interrupt your… evening, but---”

“Get on with it Sergeant!”Alex can hear the impatience color the Archangel’s tone. She sincerely hopes her fellow brother-in-arms gets to the point, for his sake.

“Ah yes! Yes, sir! General Riesen and the members of the Consul are holding an emergency session. Your presence is required Sir.”

“Fine, inform the General I’ll be there momentarily. Now leave.”

“Of… of course Archangel sir!”

Alex holds her breath, listening carefully to the retreating footsteps of her fellow AAC soldier. Judging by the quickness of his pace, the soldier was just as eager to leave.

When Michael was sure the guard was gone, he retracts his wings, lets her go and begins to pace. Alex fidgets, rubbing her arms slightly to warm herself. The air had a more noticeable chill, at least compared to before. She hadn’t realized that Michael could feel so… _warm._ The Archangel’s body heat seemed slightly higher than normal.

Well, normal for a _human_ at any rate.

“That was close.”Alex says after a moment or so. Michael scarcely glanced her way. “Yes, too close.” The Archangel agrees absently. Clearly his thoughts are elsewhere. Her gaze flickered to the entrance way, “You don’t think he saw me do you?”

This time Michael does look at her, his face not as distant as it was a moment ago. “It’s unlikely.”

The soldier frowns at the floor, lost in thought. She studies the iridescent designs in the marble, stabbing them with her big toe before making her decision.

“Maybe I should use the private showers at the barracks instead? I know they’re V3 access or above, but since it’s _your_ Corps, perhaps you can give me authorization?” As she speaks, Alex is desperately trying not to give the oversized hot tub a wistful look, but she doesn’t quite succeed. Alex had had plans for that bathtub… wonderfully exquisite grand plans.

However, she could take one for the team, even if a tiny part of her dies a little inside.

“There is no need.” Michael responds, his voice snapping Alex out of her bathtub reverie. “Starting tomorrow, you will come here every evening for training.”

She arches a brow, surprised, “But I’m already training with you.” The Archangel shakes his head at her statement.

“That is different,” He tells her evenly, “We were training your physical skills. Now, we focus on your mental ones. You need clarity Alex, clarity and mental discipline. It’s the only way you can push aside all distractions and hone in on your power. To find your center and choose the right path to win this war.”

In three graceful strides Michael reaches Alex. He places a gentle hand on her shoulders and stares deep into her large brown eyes. The look on the Archangel’s features is so… intense, so filled with belief in her that it is staggering. Alex has to look away, because up until that moment she really didn’t comprehend the depth and magnitude of Michael’s faith in her as the ‘Chosen One’.

How would she ever live up to his… or anyone’s expectations? She was only human after all.

Michael, seeing the doubt creep onto her features, cups her chin. His long slender fingers turning her face back towards him. “Alex? I know this is a lot to ask of you, but remember this. I _will_ be with you every step of the way. You will _not_ go through this alone. Not as long as there is breath still left in my body. Do you understand?”

Alex exhales, swatting the Archangel’s hand aside; she reluctantly agrees to his proposal. “Yeah, I understand. However… does that mean I get to use your hot tub now?”

The all too familiar self-complacent smirk returns. Michael folds his arms, studying her zealously.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” He retorts matter-of-factly, “Now get dressed, it’s late and you have the morning rotation. I need to go; I’ve already kept the Consul waiting far too long as is.”

Alex rolls her eyes heavenward, turns on her heels and heads back to her clothes. She waves her hand dismissively, “Fine, whatever, _be_ that way Michael. You will say yes one day, mark my words.”

“We shall see.”

When she looks back over her shoulder the Archangel is gone. She stares at her clothes, then to the shower and back again.

“Heh… why the hell not?”

With a wicked grin in place, Alex reaches for the spa sauna doors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so... we come to a close to this story FOR NOW. There will be more! only this part is over. I hope you enjoyed it! Which angel should I do next? Or do you want more Malex! =D


	4. Sanctified… PART I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“My hand… You shot my fucking hand! You bitch!! You… you… fucking BITCH!” The lower angel accuses the soldier._  
>  “Fuck you Durge you’ll live!” Alex counters coldly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *waves* I am BACK! I hope everyone had a marvelous Christmas! I did! First I want to apologize for the pause in between updates. Several things happened at once. Turns out I hadn't fully recovered from being sick as I originally thought, then well... I won't lie Sims 4 happened and well... yeah that was a thing. Then you know it was CHRISTMAS!! *throws confetti* FINALLY! I was at a lost on _what and how_ I should continue my LFA- Malex tidbits.
> 
> It wasn't until I rewatched S01E07 "Ouroboros" that the idea came to me! I lifted a lot of the dialog straight from within the first 10 minutes episode 7, however I did my best to change it up and whatnot. I hope you like it! Please let me know! I don't bite! (unless asked =p)

_“Sanctify this vessel…”_

In an old porn shop out in the ruins of the Nevada desert, far from prying eyes and several miles from Vega, Alex Lannon was conducting an experiment.

_“Sanctify this vessel…”_

_“Fuck you!”_

Or _trying_ to at least… Alex sighed tiredly. She looks on in thinly veiled disgust, but she pinched her brows; pushing on regardless.

_“Sanctify this vessel…”_

Another inhuman high-pitched hiss emerges from the captured eight-ball. He then proceeds to smash both fists repeatedly against the window, all the while hissing and cursing Alex and any descendants she may have in the distant future. His rage filled breath fogging up the plastic glass.

 _“Stupid_ fucking _human! Do you have any idea_ who I AM!? _”_ He snarls, as he struggles against the chains and bangs furiously on the window. Alex sighs yet again, lowering her hand and studying the eight-ball before her.

“Yes,” She replies solemnly, weariness tinting her voice somewhat. “Your name is Errol King, you’re thirty two years old, you lived in Reno and your were a theater major---“

 _“NO!”_ interrupts the lower angel irately, bashing a fist so hard against the window it audibly shuddered. It was as if the possessed man couldn’t bear hearing what it’s… “hosts” life had been before... well before all this happened. The eight-ball pulls at his discolored skin _“NO!_ HIS _name is Errol King!_ MY _name is---“_

“Is Durge… Yes, yes _we know!”_ Alex scrubs her face with her palm. The soldier was hot, sticky and tired. She’d been at this for what felt like _hours,_ but it was more like two. They weren’t getting anywhere and it was starting to piss her off. Still… Alex was anything if not determined, so she takes a breath, raised her hand and tried again.

_“Sanctify this vessel…”_

_“Sanctify my dick, you tattooed_ bitch _…”_

Errol King or _Durge_ rather, spats his declaration acidly at her whilst lewdly grabbing himself, bits a spittle and who knows what else flies from his decayed mouth, it coats the thick plastic window separating them.

And Alex finally snaps.

In one fluid motion she reaches for her Beretta and fires at the lower angel, narrowly missing the eight-ball’s head. Although the shot went wide on purpose, the creatures taunt filled screeches of mirth only served to fuel Alex’s ire.

Her feelings, like some strange emotional pendulum, swings wildly back-n-forth between being furious at the lower angel Durge and being furious at herself for letting him get to her. In a fit of temper, she kicks over a clear plastic egg chair; it hits the bottom of the window bouncing to the side in a noisy _clang_.

Marching over to the lower angel Alex slams the flat of her gun on the screen.

“I am trying to _save_ your life! Why can’t you fucking _see that?”_

 _“I don’t_ need _saving!”_

“I am _going to_ save Errol King’s life whether you like it or not.” She vows and with that Alex closed her eyes, lifts her palm and tries again.

_“Sanctify this vessel…”_

_“Sanctify this vessel… Sanctify this vessel… Sanctify this vessel…”_ mocks the eight-ball gleefully, _“You’re starting to sound like a broken record. Do you really think that will do any good?”_

Alex shoots him.

It’s a clean shot; the bullet goes straight through the eight-ball’s hand embedding itself in the wall behind him. Shrieking, the lower angel reels back in pain clutching his bleeding appendage.

 _“My hand… You shot my fucking hand! You_ bitch!! _You… you… fucking_ BITCH!” The lower angel accuses the soldier.

“Fuck you Durge you’ll live!” Alex counters coldly. She continues with the eviction. _“Sanctify this vessel…”_

Michael, who had been until that moment sitting silently in the background, snaps shut the book he’d been perusing loudly. He then holds it out to his ward, suggesting casually and in a somewhat blasé manner, “Perhaps the Apocrypha?”

If looks could kill.

Glancing over her shoulder, Alex glared daggers at the Archangel to her side. “I don’t _need_ to read the _damn book_ anymore!”

Michael eyebrows lifts, “Says _who!?_ ” the Archangel demands skeptically. Alex whirls around on her heels, facing Michael head on. “Says the gahdamn _markings Michael!”_ She snaps irritably at the Archangel. Her expression darkens at his apparent lack of faith in her. She turns back to the eight-ball.

_“Sanctify this vessel…”_

Her word’s caused Michael’s brow to lift even higher, if possible. The Archangel tilts his head to the side, in the same fashion when something (or someone) has his complete and undivided attention.

“That signifies progress Alex, significant progress!” he states then frowns, “You might have told me that sooner.” Admonish the Archangel to his ward. Alex expels a heavy breath. Giving up on the eviction for the moment, she reaches for and takes a large swig from her canteen. “Yeah, well I’m trying to build on that progress Michael and you know _save_ human lives!”

The Archangel snorts, reopens the Apocrypha and casually turns its pages, “I applaud your… enthusiasm, but never forget over confidence is a trap.”

Alex scoffs, rolling her brown eyes heavenward, “Are you _really_ quoting one of the seven deadly sins to me? Shouldn’t that lecture be reserved for your darling brother Gabriel?” She takes another pull from her flask, casting her gaze to the captured eight-ball in the peep booth. He snarls and hisses at the soldier, her expression becomes guarded.

“Look, I know how this works.” She tells the Archangel as she returns her attention to him. “It’s not my first rodeo. Did you forget that I successfully managed to burn the angel out of Claire’s mom?”

Michael meets her gaze levelly, “Clementine was a unique case and you know it. She’d been practically domesticated by General Riesen. For all we know _that_ very act of her domestication could have been the reason it even worked in the first place.”

Alex brows furrow, she silently mulled over what Michael had said. Wandering closer to the Archangel and sitting down next to him on the steps. The soldier knew he had a point, as much as she hated to admit it. The fact that Clementine had been more or less sane had helped.

“Okay, I’ll give you that one.” She concedes to Michael. “But what about these?” Alex reached over to where her discarded jacket lay a couple of feet away from them. She pulls out from the inner breast pocket, several id’s and drivers licenses.

She holds up one for Michael to see. It’s a license thats faded and yellowed with age, “What about Texas huh? _He_ was nowhere near ‘domesticated’ and I brought him back into the light for fifteen minutes!”

The Archangel gaze flickers to the card and he makes a face. “It was closer to _twelve_ minutes, then he went into convulsions and died.”He counters stoically. However, he still takes the card and the others from her; flipping through the remnants of the people Alex tried… and failed to save.

“Besides, you’re only fixating on the ones _with_ some form of identification. _Like_ for instance, Texas, Georgia, Florida, Dakota, Virginia, Seattle… etcetera.” Michael lays each I.D. down has he lists them, as if he was playing blackjack or solitaire. “But what about the others? Like the one you found at the wax house? I believe I was out when you worked on her.”

At the mention of that particular incident, Alex stiffens. She doesn’t answer the Archangel right away; her mind is filled with images of what had happened a couple of weeks ago.

Michael, noting her sudden shift in mood fixes her with a keen stare. “Well? What happened?” The Archangel pressed when several seconds ticked by and his ward still hadn’t answered.

Abruptly, Alex vaults to her feet, turning away from the dark haired angelic, to gaze at the eight-ball Durge in the booth. Fist balled at her side. Michael arches a brow, leaning forward to get a better look at his ward’s face. However her expression was closed off.

“Alex,” he addresses her again, “Alex I asked you a question? What happened with that eight-ball woman?”

When she finally looks back at him, her features are shuttered, her eyes giving nothing. “I heard you the first time.” she responds vaguely, “It’s just that… you don’t want to know what happened at the wax house.” Michael snaps the Apocrypha shut again.

“Yes. I do.” He replies bluntly. The young sergeant starts to pace. Three steps to the left. Stop. Turn. Three steps to the right. Stop. On the return trip Alex focused back on Durge. Her attention suddenly fixated on the lower angel. She begins to move towards the eight-ball…

 _“Alex!”_ Michael snaps.

The young sergeant halts on the spot. Without turning back to her mentor she finally responds. “She snapped her own neck… before… before I’d even gotten half way.”

She resumes her stride to the eight-ball. While he was still snarling and snapping at the soldier, he seemed to be studying Alex almost intensely as she was studying him. In the background the young sergeant could hear Michael say somewhat consolingly, “It was not your fault Alex… Spiritual matters have never been an exact science…”

The dark haired angelic’s blue gaze narrowed suspiciously when his ward failed to reply (or contradict him) right away. “When I agreed to let you hone your skills, I didn’t think you would turn this into a fool’s errand Alex.”

“Poor sonuva bitch…” Alex states quietly as if she was talking to herself. Perhaps she was. “Don’t pity him.” Michael imparts to the young soldier grimly, “Those who’ve mourned him have long since passed, or worse still are just _like_ him.”

“I’m not.” Alex reassures him, but the Archangel still has his doubts. However, Michael relaxes enough to reach for the Apocrypha. He merely fingers the ancient pages idly as his attention is fixed on Alex. Hers in turn, is fixed on the eight-ball.

Silence descends on the trio heavily.

“Michael? How strong are those chains?”Alex asks the Archangel. Her voice breaking the strong atmosphere that had settled in the room. Nevertheless, her casual question sends red flags to Michael.

“They’re made from Empyrean steel, he’s not going anywhere. Why?” Caution overtakes the Archangel as he half rises from the step he’d been seated on.

“Good.” Alex replies lightly. Michael watches as the young sergeant lifts her fitted tee over her head, tossing it haphazardly behind her. Exposing her upper torso (with the exception of her black A.A.C. regulated fit sports bra.) markings and all.

“Alex what are you doing?”

In the background Durge makes another lewd gesture, both Archangel and Soldier ignore him.

“I want to try something.” Alex paused to cast a glance to Michael, “Will you watch my six?” Her mentor makes no secret of his disapproval to whatever plan Alex was concocting. Her recklessness would be the end of him or worse, the death of her he was sure of it. Alex tossed Michael a slightly mischievous and almost wicked grin, as if she could read his thoughts and found it amusing.

“Trust me Michael; I know what I am doing.”

He had his reservations.

“Do you really?”

“Yes!” Her grin widens. She cracks her knuckles, rotating her shoulders, first the left one, then the right. Next she shifts her neck from side to side and stretches. When she feels sufficiently warmed up, Alex speaks to the eight-ball in the booth.

“Errol King.” She addresses the lower angel evenly, “I _am_ going to save you!”

The young sergeant takes a deep breath, finds her center, tuning out Michael’s glares and Durge’s snarls. Then before she could be stopped, Alex unlocks the booth door and opens it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes! Yes I know! ANOTHER Cliffhanger, but you won't have to wait long for the next part! It should be up before New Years day! (Its's New Years Eve now and it all depends on whether or not I need to run my grandma around town) If not then come January 1st 2016 part II WILL BE UP! I PROMISE!


	5. Author's Note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is NOT an update...

Okay, its about 3pm EST at the time of this posting. I just wanted to let you my good readers know that I will have to push back part 2 of Sanctified until the this weekend. I am sorry for this but please hear me out I have a good reason. Not to long after I posted the new chapter, my mom called me saying she was having severe abdominal pains, shortness of breath and nausea. So I immediately rushed her to the hospital, where I've been since the early hours of the morning. I JUST GOT HOME :(

Luckily the ER was all but deserted when we arrived and they were able to take her in right away. Long story short, after all the tests the doctors did came back, my mom has some sort of serious intestinal infection. They don't know what caused it, but the doctors said she should be fine in the next several days. So yeah... I have to take care of my mom, she's the only one I got.

With that said, I hope you all have a very Happy New Year! and thank you so very much for understanding!

With Love,  
~QuantumAlice


	6. Sanctified… PART II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Michael, whose sharp gaze missed nothing, hovers on the outskirts of the doorway as the young sergeant braced herself, palms flat, against the opposite wall. His swords instinctively drawn, prepared to finish the eight-ball permanently._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> O.O *eyes wells up with tears* First of all I want to give a HUGE Thank you these lovely people! Eziliveve, Andalusa, Troopersspecial1, and last but certainly not least LadyJana. Thank you all so much for the concern and prayers for my mom. She is doing much better now (she's cracking jokes and can eat real food again :D)
> 
> I told her of your well wishes and she was touched. She told me to tell you all THANK YOU SOOOOOOOO MUCH! We did have to go back to the hospital yesterday (and we spent 8 freakin hours there OMG!!) that's why I didn't post anything for sunday.

Of course the eight-ball immediately tries to attack her. Wounded hand or not. However, the Empyrean chains hold their own and he could only get but _so_ far. In addition to that, Alex was on high alert the second she’d made her decision to confront Durge head on. She was ready for him.

With Michael watching her back, (disapproving scowls and all.) it doesn’t take long for the young sergeant to subdue the lower angel. Once she has him locked in her grasp, Alex initiates her plan.

“Your name is Errol King…” she states matter-of-factly, her voice is clear and strong. “You’re thirty-two years old. You lived in Reno. You’re a theater major.”

While Alex recites the bits of information she’d gleamed from Errol’s former life, the eight-ball within him starts to thrash around wildly. He growls and snarls curses at her in broken English and from what Michael had told her Enochian. Michael shifts closer, hands poised on the hilts of his swords. The Archangel is ready to intercede if need be, he will let no harm come to his ward at any cost.

Nevertheless, Alex’s hold on the possessed Errol remains true. She does not waiver in the slightest. “You’re married,” She continues evenly, “With a wife and three kids. Twin boys who looked to be ten or eleven as well as, a little girl who’s about four. Now… tell me your name!”

 _“Fuck you! My name is… is Durge!”_ snarls the eight-ball caustically. He thrashes about viciously, struggling in vain against Alex’s headlock. The soldier frowns and tightens her grip.

“No! That is not your name! _You will_ tell me your true name! By the divine rites marked upon me _I command you_! _Now say it!_ ”

_“My… my… name is… Fu… fuck you!! My name is Du… Durge! You bitch! You slut… fucking angelic whore!”_

Alex breathes an inaudible sigh of dissatisfaction. She constricts her hold on him a little more until the eight-ball squeals in pain, his shrill yelps echoes throughout the peep booth.

“Wrong answer.” Alex replies indifferently. “Tell me your name!”

_“No no NO! Fu… fuc… fuck you bitch! Let me go! My… my name is Durge! Fucking Durge! And that’s all you will get out of me you slut! That is ALL! Now let the fuck go!”_

So she does.

The eight-ball jeers and taunts Alex as she turns away from him. Michael, whose sharp gaze missed nothing, hovers on the outskirts of the doorway as the young sergeant braced herself, palms flat, against the opposite wall.

His swords instinctively drawn, prepared to finish the eight-ball permanently. But he doesn’t get the chance, for Alex holds her hand up to stop the Archangel.

“Don’t. I’m not finished with him yet.” She tells him quietly, ignoring the mocking ridicule thrown at her from Durge.

_“I’m not finished with him yet! Heh… Don’t act like I’m not here you bitch…”_

“Shut it!” snaps Michael brusquely; “Or I will slit your worthless throat.” he returns his attention back to his ward, “Alex, are you sure?” There is a small note of concern that colors the Archangel’s tone; it made the young sergeant look at him.

“Oh absolutely.” She replies calmly, with a strange glint in her eye not present a moment ago.

There’s a feeling which settles over her. Alex can’t quite put a name to it or even describe it. The closest thing that even remotely comes to it is that calmness before the storm. Everything in nature, every bird, insect and reptile are holding their breath, bracing for chaos. Even the air around her is charged, Alex could feel its static flow through her.

And it was exhilarating.

When she straightens, turning once more back to the eight-ball, he’s still mocking her. However, something on the sergeant’s face caused the lower angel to falter. He tries to recover, tossing her a half hearted, _“Coming back for more? Are you really that desperate? I_ told _you bitch Errol ain’t in here! You’re dealing with_ me _Durge! The one and fucking only!”_

But it is a hollow threat and all parties know it.

Alex simply smiles.

Durge recoils as if stricken.

Michael’s brow furrows, but he does nothing, contented for now at least to merely watch the lower angel, letting the event unfold as they may.

With every step the sergeant takes forward, the eight-ball takes a step back. With each advance, the static charge around her made the markings on her skin tingle. She can _feel_ them move. In that moment she can comprehend their meaning. In that moment the tattoos are speaking to her.

In that moment she knows what to do.

The instant Alex touches the lower angel, the markings they glow.

And Durge screams.

 _“Ecce ancilla Domini!”_ Michael’s eyes widen, his head whips sharply to Alex. He knew those words; it was the language of his kin. Alex did not and _should_ not know them and yet… she speaks them as if it was second nature. As if she’d always spoke it. His gaze flickers to her tattoos. They swirled and burned a fierce golden light upon her russet skin.

_“Verumtamen dico sanctissimi nominis… Hac tum praetoria naue sanctificet!”_

_“Wha… what is this? What are you doing!?”_ the eight-ball shrieks in anguished torment. He violently twists and thrusts away from her grasp. An effort ultimately wasted in vain, for Alex’s hold is iron clad. She was not letting go. He was not escaping.

 _“Hac tum praetorian naue sanctificet!”_ She repeats. Her voice is steadfast yet otherworldly, filled with command and authority. _“Praecipio tibi in nomine Domini Dei Durge relinquere navem!”_

An unnatural wind stirs, filling the small space, lacing the atmosphere heavy with ozone and electricity. Static crackles then pops, increasing as the volume of power rises within Alex. Her markings blaze ferociously until the light is so bright, so consuming that Michael has to shield his eyes from their intensity.

_“No! No! Make her stop! Make her stop! The light it burns!! It fucking burns!! Archangel make her stop!”_

Unfortunately for Durge, his plea falls on death ears.

_“Ecce ancilla Domini! Mine vult implore. Ego praecipio tibi Durge relinquere! Hac tum praetorian naue sanctificet in nomine Dei!”_

Unbeknownst to Alex, the tattoos had taken a life all their own; winding their way around her skin in a serpentine fashion. They snake up her neck, down her forehead, touching her iris, bleeding their normal color away until only the golden glow remained.

 _“Hac tum praetorian naue sanctificet! Da mihi verum nomen!”_ Alex vision became tunneled. She could only see the Eviction, nothing else mattered. _“Venerandum tuum verum loqui nomine!”_

Not her.

“Alex…”

Not Durge.

“Alex…”

Not even Michael.

“Alex… Alex _stop!”_

There was only the Eviction.

“ _Stop this Alex! You’re going to kill him!”_

There was only the Eviction.

_“Alex… Alex! Stop this! Stop! You’re bleeding!”_

There was only the Eviction.

The Archangel reached for her, only to meet a backlash of power that sent the dark haired angelic reeling. (A first for him.) Michael recovers quickly, but can only look on to see the possessed Errol start to give way under the weight of the eviction. His cries drowned out by the sheer force of her will, the same influence which now, keeps the Archangel pinned.

_“Hac tum praetorian naue sanctificet! Venerandum tuum verum loqui nomine!”_

_“My… name… my name… is…”_

_“Loqui in nomine tuo!”_

_“My name is… Errol… Errol King!”_

_“Sanctificavi nomini eius adnuntiate…”_

And Alex lets go.

There is complete and perfect silence. Everything has stopped.

After a moment, a small distinct ‘pop’ could be heard. The results of which caused the heaviness in the room to burst, like a pressurized bubble.

Several things happen simultaneously.

Michael can move.

Errol goes limp, his eyes rolling in the back of his head. The black lines fade from his skin.

Like a marionette without it's strings, Alex crumples to the floor.

Michael catches her before she hits it.

“Alex… Alex wake up! Alex… _Alex open your eyes!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> O.O I love you guys! *runs* lol
> 
> I researched some Enochian translator generators... but honestly I didn't like the "look" of it. So everything Alex says is in plain ole Google Latin if you are curious as to what she's saying. (I'm too lazy to post it right now lol)
> 
> The final part of Sanctified will be out in a few days! Thank you so much for reading this and being patience with me through my ordeal.


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